


Black and White

by WhisperedSweetNothings



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, First Time, Fluff, Human Jack Frost, M/M, Pitch and Jack being cuties, Slow Build, lots of fluff, they'll have sex eventually i promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-17
Updated: 2013-09-17
Packaged: 2017-12-26 20:55:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/970189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperedSweetNothings/pseuds/WhisperedSweetNothings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when Jack finds a trail of black sand in the Burgess woods?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

It was cold.  


Jackson was used to it.  


Burgess was always frigid in the winter, but he never minded – he liked the crispness of the air and the crunch of the snow beneath his feet. The chilled wind whipped around him as he walked, blowing his snowy bleached hair around his face.  
This was routine for him. Wake up, throw on his beloved blue hoodie, tug some simple jeans on, haphazardly slip on his favorite canvas sneakers, and out he went. The walk always calmed him. The cold had a way of enveloping him with a sort of chilly comfort only he and it could understand.  


Making his way along the path he usually took through the woods, he noticed something different among the crystalline scenery. Flecks of black corrupted the pure white snow. Upon closer inspection, he found it to be sand. Perplexed, he veered off his usual path and followed the ebony grains until he was lead to a frozen pond. Pleasantly surprised, he stepped onto the ice. Finding that it was solid, he happily began skating across it in his sneakers. ‘I’ll have to bring skates with me tomorrow’ he thought to himself. After an hour or so of fun, he started making his way back home, stopping to pick up a handful of the mysterious grains of sand.  


“Beautiful,” he murmured as he carefully dumped them into a clear glass bottle. Content with the new addition to the dozens of oddities he typically collected, he proceeded to continue with his day as usual.  


He never would have dreamed he would see more of the black sand. The next morning when he was on his walk, he again noticed the black flecks in the snow, leading away from his normal trail. Intrigued, he again decided to follow. As he followed the pseudo breadcrumb trail, the grains of sand became more and more numerous until the snow he was trudging through was painted entirely black. Another hundred yards or so and he found himself in a small clearing, all the snow covered in the sand. Jack inhaled sharply at the sight before him. A single rose bloomed in the center of it all. The entire thing looked like it was made of the sand, like it would shatter the moment it was touched. Unable to resist his temptation, Jackson made his way over to it, gently plucking it by the stem. It was surprisingly light in his hands, and seemed sturdy enough to handle. A small smile found its way onto his face as he turned around and picked up another handful of sand for his bottle at home.  


“Thank you.”  


It was almost inaudible, and Jackson didn’t really know whom it was directed to, but he felt the need to say it. Whoever was doing this was giving him something to look forward to with each passing day.

 

Time went by, and Jackson nearly ran out the door every morning, excited to see what the black sands had in store for him. A couple of times he was astounded to see huge sculptures made with the sand, frozen into place by the snow. And then one day, the sands led him back to the pond, where he found the ice to be carved into a kind of mosaic, the black sands fitting into the ridges to form complex and distinctive patterns. Mystified, Jackson reached a hand out to hesitantly trace one of the ridges. At the touch of his fingers, the black sand was sent scattering, shifting underneath his fingertips to form new artwork on the frozen surface. Jackson became so enthralled in his newfound canvas that he didn’t notice a single shadow stretching out towards him. It wasn’t until it had taken form and was standing over him that the young boy looked up. Seeing a considerably tall shadow standing over him, the snowy haired youth inhaled deeply. He studied the form closely without saying a word. It was tall. Very tall. It was thin, much like Jackson himself, but with wider shoulders and a more muscular frame. He could see the outline of somewhat disheveled hair, and suddenly had the urge to touch it. Almost subconsciously, his hand wandered forward onto the shadow, gently tracing the outline of what he assumed to be inky black tresses. The figure behind him gave an audibly content sigh, and Jackson smiled. This person… entity, whatever – had given him more care and happiness than anyone else he knew. Jack was more than willing to return the favor. Ever so slowly, he skimmed his frozen fingertips along where he imagined the man’s jaw line would be.  


“Mmm…”  


The sound of the man’s voice sent shivers down Jackson’s spine. He wasn’t sure why, but he wanted to hear more, not caring if it was actual words or more whispered murmers. Growing bolder, he crouched over the man’s shadow, placing his hands on either side of it’s shoulders. Slowly, so as not to startle the man, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to the icy surface of the pond. It was chaste and lasted only a second, but when Jackson pulled away, he could feel a crimson blush painted across his cheeks. He watched the figure beneath him intently for any reaction. He was about to speak and ask if the man was alright when he saw the shadow reach up to where Jack and his lips had met.  


“Thank you.”  


Jack’s breath caught in his chest at the sound of the man’s voice. Deep, smooth, lightly accented… He turned around to face him, but in that instant the mystery man was gone. Jackson stood alone beside his pond, left to ponder what had just occurred.


	2. Chapter Two

Over the course of the next few days, Jackson struggled to come to a decision. On one hand, he could return to the pond and potentially see the object of his fascination. On the other… He had borderline molested a shadow. As he mentally berated himself for his strange yet endearing actions, Jack found it harder and harder to find the resolve to return to the pond. Caught between two opposing plans of action, night after night he would fall into an empty and dreamless sleep; each day of indecision leading to another day away from the woods.

 

Jackson was glaring at the drywall of his bedroom ceiling.  


“I can’t believe it’s been a week since I was last there,” he sighed. “Maybe he forgot about me by now…?”  


The thought caused a pinprick of hurt to course through his heart. Jackson furrowed his brow and rolled over on his bed. ‘No, he wouldn't forget. Not after I… After I touched him like that. Arggg… why do I even care? I shouldn’t place so much value in what a… sentient being or whatever he is… thinks of me.’  


With that last thought, Jackson Frost reached over to his bedside table and flicked the light off, crawling under the covers and falling into yet another restless, dreamless sleep.  


What Jack didn't expect was to fall asleep so quickly. Nor was he expecting to be fully aware in what seemed to be a dream. He found himself back at the pond, a blanket of twinkling stars overhead. The moon was shining brightly, and the shadows from the trees stretched towards the young man.  


“Are you here?”  


Jackson’s voice broke the silence of his dream world, loud and clear. He needed to know who it was that he had so tenderly kissed, who it was that had treated him so preciously, who it was that he had been avoiding for a week. When silence was his answer, Jackson opened his mouth to speak again.  


“Are you – “  


“Yes. I am here.”  


A lone strip of darkness materialized in front of Jackson, growing until it took on the shape of a silhouette he would never forget. The shadows continued to pulse and undulate gently over the figure until the darkness had tangible shape. Slowly, the black receded over the face of a man. Pale, almost grey skin gave an ethereal glow to his otherwise dark presence. A well defined chin and nose were accentuated by the man’s high cheek bones, and just as Jack had thought, midnight tresses grew thick from the top of the man’s head. What drew Jackson in the most though, was the faint glowing of golden eyes. He hadn’t realized he was staring until the figure before him gave him a crooked smile – caught somewhere between a grin and a smirk – and spoke.  


“Cat got your tongue, Jack?”  


Caught off guard, Jackson stumbled backwards, his feet slipping on the slick ice of the pond. With a yelp, he rather unceremoniously landed on his behind.  


“Its… Its really you.”  


Jack didn't really know what to think at this point. This was a dream, right? He had remembered going to bed, so that must mean this was a dream. If this was a dream, Jack shook his head, then the other man couldn't be real. A look of disappointment crossed his face, and the taller male caught it.  


“You’re afraid this isn’t real. You think I’ll disappear as soon as you wake up.”  


At the astonished face Jack was making, the being couldn't help but smirk.  


“I can sense what you fear most in a given moment, Jack. Rest assured however, I shant leave you like last week – unless you wish it of course.”  


At the mention of the incident a week ago, Jackson’s body visibly stiffened and a light pink dusted his cheeks. Smirking, the cause of his embarrassment extended his hand in an offering of assistance. Somewhat hesitantly, Jack took it, and was amazed at the warmth that seemed to radiate off the man’s skin. Before he knew it, he was upright again, and the brief contact was over. Clutching his hand to his chest, the boy directed his gaze anywhere but on the man in front of him, an action that earned him an amused quirking of lips. A warm finger under his chin turned his gaze back towards golden irises, and the man spoke.  


“You haven’t been coming to the pond. I started to wonder if something happened to you or if I had done something wrong. I started to miss you, Jack.”  


Jackson was at a loss for words. He felt drawn to the pond, drawn to this dark man and he hadn’t returned because, because…  
He was scared.  


“You’re afraid of what you did. You’re afraid of rejection,”  


Jackson closed his eyes and nodded in agreement. Yes, this man certainly hit the nail on the head.  


“And yet you aren’t afraid of me, of what I am.”  


The man punctuated the end of his sentence with a light caress to snow white hair, a mirror of Jack’s own actions a week ago. Jack opened his eyes.  


“You can feel what your shadow feels, correct?”  


The man nodded, and Jack took a deep breath.  


“So when I kissed your shadow, I kissed you. You could feel it.”  


He was given a warm smile and another nod. Before he could convince himself otherwise with more over thinking, Jackson wrapped his arms around a strong torso, his own head barely reaching the center of the man’s chest. He could hear a steady heartbeat and buried his face into black robes. He finally looked up again when he felt arms encircle him.  


“Before, back at the pond I mean, I was amazed at what you did for me. Nobody’s ever given me so much attention before. At school its like I’m invisible. So when you showed me all your beautiful sculptures, and made me that rose, I was just so happy… The woods were always my special place, but I had found someone to share them with. When your shadow appeared to me, I wanted to repay you somehow. I felt drawn to it, just as I feel drawn to you now.”  


Jackson was blushing by the time he finished speaking, but he could feel the arms around him tighten, and the gentlest of kisses placed upon the top of his head.  


“Has it occurred to you that I’m not exactly human?”  


Jack stifled a giggle, nodding his head. “That's a little obvious, isn’t it?”  


“That being said, would you still feel… comfortable with me knowing what I am, what I do?”  


Jack pulled back just enough to look at the man’s face. “Whatever you are, if you were going to harm me, you would have already done it. I want to get to know you and give you happiness, just as you have given me the last few weeks.”  


The man tightened his arms around Jack once more. “I have the ability to enter and manipulate dreams, control and teleport through shadows. I have many names in many different cultures, but the one you’ll be most familiar with is The Boogeyman.”  


The man felt Jackson pull away and a tendril of his own fear creeped up his spine. When he saw a slow smile spread across the boy’s face however, his fear vanished.  


“Everyone has to deal with a bit of fear sometimes. It’s natural. It’s why you exist, isn’t it?”  


Pleasantly surprised, the man returned Jack’s smile. “I suppose so.”  


“So while we’re on the topic of you, I still don’t know your name.”  


Looking down at the smirking boy in front of him, the man found himself chuckling as he carded fingers through white strands for the second time that night.  
“My name is Pitch Black. But you can call me Pitch.”


	3. Chapter Three

After Jack’s little confession (could it even be called that? Jack wasn't sure) he had asked how Pitch knew his name. The boy was given a fond smile as the man spoke.  


“I have had a home in those woods for many centuries, Jack. I always liked it for its peaceful atmosphere, which is why I was surprised when a bright eyed child came running through them one day, brandishing a stick and proclaiming these lands to belong to one Jackson Overland Frost.”  


Jack couldn't help but laugh when he thought about it. He had been so afraid of what Pitch would think if he ever saw him again, and as it turns out, Pitch probably knew more about him than his own mother. When it came time to say goodbye to Pitch that night, Jack made the man promise to see him again, be it at the pond or in his dreams. Pitch had replied with another warm smile and kiss to snowy locks before dissolving into the shadows and Jackson woke up.  


Over the course of the next few weeks, the two continued to meet, every morning at their pond (Jack wasn't even sure when he had began to call it “theirs”) and every evening in Jacks dreams via Pitch’s strange powers. Each moment together was spent cataloguing different qualities and traits of the other, such as Jack’s habit of biting his lip while deep in thought and Pitch’s fondness for the art of sarcasm. Jack learned a lot about what it meant exactly to be “The Nightmare King” and Pitch was all too happy to indulge Jack’s sometimes immature requests for demonstrations of his power, although not without giving a half hearted attempt to pretend he hated it.  


“I don't understand why I should be doing this.”  


“Because I asked you to, and it’ll be fun!”  


Jack had come up with this marvelous idea of Pitch teleporting him to a glacier so they could watch the northern lights that night. Jack was just excited at the prospect of going anywhere with Pitch – Pitch was worried to how the darkness would take to Jack.  


“I’ve never tried to teleport another being with me it might not… fare so well for you. I’m worried the shadows might hurt you. If I were to lose my grip on you before we reached our destination, you would be lost, and I couldn't guarantee that I would be able to find you again.”  


Pitch’s golden eyes had taken on a faraway look, like he was familiar with the concept of losing someone dear. All signs of humor gone, he turned his head away from the boy in front of him, opting to look at anything but Jack.  


Determined to get Pitch to smile again (and get his trip to see the lights), Jackson approached him slowly, his shoes crunching softly in the snow. Pale and faintly pink fingers entwined with ones of a grey pallor. Silently marveling at the warmth that always radiated from Pitch’s body, Jack brought the hand up to cup his cheek. He looked up at the other male to gauge his reaction and was happy to see he held Pitch’s full attention.  


“Hey. I can tell you’re worried, but…”  


Jackson leaned into the palm of Pitch’s hand and smiled before stepping forward once more, wrapping both arms around his torso.  


“If we go like this, even if you do lose your grip, I’ll still have you.”  


A very Jack-like lopsided grin was sent Pitch’s way, helping to ease the anxiety clawing at him. He returned the smile with one of his own, a surge of happiness flowing through him when Jackson’s only grew bigger. Pitch moved his free hand around to rest on Jack’s lower back as his other busied itself with absently stroking the Frost child’s cheek.  


“I suppose maintaining this level of physical contact would prevent loosing you in the dark… I’m assuming this is alright with you, seeing how you were the one to initiate it.”  


Jack blushed and hid his face in Pitch's robe. The amount of physical contact between the two hadn't at all approached the level it was when Pitch first appeared to him a few weeks ago. Jack, while capable of initiating contact, was still getting used to touching and being touched; that fear of rejection always laying underneath his actions.  


“You don’t ever have to be afraid to touch me, Jack. In fact, I welcome it.”  


To prove his point, Pitch wrapped both arms around Jack, holding him tightly. Pitch could feel Jack stiffen and then relax into the embrace, after which he couldn't help but chuckle softly. ‘Curious. He’s normally so casual and assertive.’ The thought was suddenly disrupted by a loud chime from Jack’s cell phone. With a muttered curse, Jack checked his phone and his eyes widened to almost comical proportions.  


“Shit! Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”  


“Is there something wrong?” Pitch was trying hard not to laugh, and Jack could tell.  


“My first period class started five minutes ago. That was Jamie, wondering where I was. If I hurry, I can make it there before first ends, but I gotta go now. Sorry Pitch, I’ll see you tonight. Don’t forget our little fieldtrip!”  


Jack gave the taller male a grin, giddy with anticipation before taking off through the woods, back towards the road. Pitch simply stood there, a small smile of his own sitting on his lips.  


“Goodbye, Jack. I’ll see you tonight.”


End file.
